He raised his hand as if to strike her. Shanna looked up, her face somehow serene despite the violence being perpetrated upon her. "It's never corruption to speak the truth," she said.
Ragnar slammed his fist down, a blow that should have knocked all the teeth from Shanna's mouth. Only, the blow never struck Shanna. Burke tossed aside his crutch and reached out, catching Ragnar's hand. The force of the halted blow threw Burke off balance. Ragnar snarled and shoved Burke away. Burke landed in the dirt, flat on his back. He rolled to his belly, ready to push up on both hands.
Stonewall stepped forward and placed his foot into the small of his back, pinning him. Behind him, Shanna let out a gasp of pain. Burke turned his head and saw Ragnar lifting her to her feet by her long hair. So much for the assumption she was wearing a wig.
Ragnar apparently was confounded by Shanna's tresses as well. "What witchcraft had restored your hair, woman?" he demanded.
"My shaved scalp was a symbol of the Murder God," she said, crying out the words through her pain. "My new hair is a gift of the healer! It's a symbol of his grace! Everyone who looks upon me knows the truth. The time of war is passed! The time of healing has begun!"
Ragnar let out a horrible, guttural scream of wordless rage. He slammed Shanna's head down onto the lip of the well with a sickening crack.
"You bastard!" Burke screamed, struggling to free himself. "What are you-"
Before he could complete the thought, Ragnar held out an open hand. Frost stepped up and placed a long knife into his palm. Shanna's arms hung limp at her sides. Ragnar still held her by her hair. Her once white robes were now streaked with red. Her eyes were half open, but she looked stunned by Ragnar's blow.
"Death is the fate of all blasphemers!" Ragnar shouted. "Let no man be led astray by the lies of a witch! These are not the days of healing! These are the days of wrath! We shall not rest until we've driven the last dragon into the sea! Remember the Free City!"
The crowd cheered at this battle cry.
"War!" Ragnar cried.
"War!" the crowd echoed.
"War!" he cried again.
"WAAAARR!" the crowd howled, their voices causing the earth beneath Burke to tremble.
Ragnar looked at the bloodied, half conscious woman dangling in his grasp, wrinkling his nose in disgust, as if he'd just discovered a dead skunk in his hand. With a grunt, he jerked her backward and up, until she sat atop the well. He sank the knife deep into her left breast. He yanked the knife free and released her. She toppled backward, her legs flipping into the air, and disappeared down the stone shaft.
The crowd continued to cheer. Burke pushed up with all his might, but Stonewall only pressed down harder.
Ragnar leaned down, staring into Burke's face. He looked calm as he said, "If I discover you were behind this, you'll join Shanna in her watery grave."
Burke wanted to grab the prophet by his beard and yank the flesh off his skull. Alas, Ragnar crouched several inches beyond his reach. Despite his anger, there was a cool, mechanical voice inside him, counseling him on practical matters. "A corpse in the well will poison our water, idiot," he hissed.
Ragnar's calm expression changed to a frown. He turned and addressed Stonewall in a tone of voice that bordered on sanity. "Let him go," he said. "Have your men fish Shanna's body out at once."
"Of course, sir," said Stonewall, though he didn't move his foot. Indeed, his shifted even more of his weight onto it. Burke felt certain his spine would snap.
Ragnar walked away. Only once he was gone did Stonewall release Burke. Burke rolled over and found the giant bodyguard gazing down at him.
"Burke, I understand your actions," said Stonewall. "No man enjoys seeing a woman struck. However, I cannot allow you to hurt Ragnar."
"Why didn't you stop him?" Burke grumbled as he sat up. "Instead of standing on my back, you could have saved her life."
"Ragnar is a holy man," said Stonewall. "You heard the crowd cheer his words. The Lord has chosen him to lead us to war. It's not our role to judge him. It's our role to obey him."
"Those may well be the most brainless words I've ever heard spoken," said Burke.
"Ragnar won the battle of the Free City. He took Dragon Forge from the dragons, and repelled the immense army gathered to take it back. It's hardly brainless to trust his judgment, or conclude that the hand of God guides his actions. If you would only accept this, and trust him with your secrets, think of the good he could do."
"You have a body to fish out of our water," said Burke. He leaned back against the well and looked down at the black seed still in his palm. Botany wasn't his strong suit, but he was certain the seed was some sort of hallucinogen, whatever it came from. It was the simplest explanation for Shanna's insanity. The missing tattoo was odd, but women were good with make-up, and he hadn't gotten a really good look at her neck. He personally had never noticed a scar on her arm, no matter Ragnar's reaction. As for the hair… a wig and glue? What else made sense?
"Maybe she had a twin?" he mumbled it out loud to test the words for plausibility. They instantly failed the test.
"Ragnar's lucky Anza wasn't here to see this," said a well-known voice. "It wouldn't be that woman's body at the bottom of the well right now." Burke looked up to find a grizzled old man before him. A familiar figure stood behind him, his hand on the older man's shoulder. Despite the horrors of the last five minutes, Burke smiled broadly.
"Thorny!" he said. "You made it. And Vance! You're back! How did you get through the blockade? Are the others with you?"
Vance shook his head. There was something disturbing about the way he wasn't looking directly at Burke. Did he come bearing bad news?
"We thought we weren't going to make it," Thorny said. "The dragons have every road into town blocked off. Worse, they've lined the roads with corpses. Even if the roads weren't guarded, I don't think many people would be coming here. They took all the refugees from Burke's Tavern captive. All the healthy people they've gathered into a holding pen, to be sold as slaves. The sickest of us, they let through the blockade. There was me, Vance, and old Dealon. Unfortunately, Dealon was weakened from the journey and worn down by the terror of walking past all those corpses. He's dead, Burke. Fell to the ground not a half mile from the gate."
Burke lowered his head. When Ragnar had started his little rebellion, Burke had refused to let anyone else from his village join his army, hoping to shield them from the worst of what was to come. Dealon had been the first man to welcome him to Burke's Tavern. He'd been outgoing, kind, and didn't have an enemy in the world. He didn't deserve a death like this.
"I guess it makes a sort of cold strategic logic to let the old and infirm through the blockade. But Vance, you're young and healthy. How'd you slip through?"
Vance shook his head. "I'm blind," he said. "I took a bad blow to my head. The world's been dark since. I'm useless now."
"Don't think that," said Burke. "You're a brave kid with a good head on his shoulders. I'll find useful work for you." He looked back to Thorny. "As for you, the dragons obviously don't know what a treasure they've given us by letting a man with your know-how slip through."
"I don't hold a candle to you, Burke," said Thorny. "And it's not like I can handle a wrench anymore."
"You know how to read a plan, though. More importantly, you know how to spot a flaw in a plan. I can't wait for you to see the Angry Beetle."
Vance sagged at these words. Burke bit his lip, realizing the word "see" might have been a poor choice. "I'm going to need some help standing up," Burke said, lifting his hand.
Thorny placed his useless claws onto Vance's wrist and guided the young man's healthy hand to Burke's outstretched fingers. "It looks like war has taken a bite out of you as well," said Thorny.